


It's no surprise we've come undone.

by LoveLetter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:40:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveLetter/pseuds/LoveLetter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Her voice pulls Stiles through the haze of his mind, the way nothing else can." (Following 3.09, prior to 3.10)</p><p>. . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's no surprise we've come undone.

****

. . .

“Dad…” 

“Stiles we’ll get him back,” Scott says, reaching forward and gripping his friend’s shoulder. The contact does little to shake Stiles from his shell shocked reverie, but Scott doesn’t let go. 

“Scott he’s… she took him,” he tries to catch his breath but can’t quite hold onto it.

“We’ll find him. I promise we’ll find him.”

“But what if- what,” he chokes on a thick rush of air and forces himself to stay standing.

“No. Don’t even think like that dude. We’re gonna find him,” Scott repeats. 

Stiles nods numbly and focuses on the jagged shards of glass littering the window. The bleariness in his eyes let images of his father, bleeding and bruised, shine in the broken reflections. He sees the scene in his mind over and over again, his father there one minute and gone the next. He doesn't understand how it happened, but he knows that it’s his fault.

Scott’s fingers are firm against his shoulder but Stiles doesn't want to let it anchor him. He doesn't want to stay rooted and present because, they’re walking through hell and he doesn't know if he can keep going without his father. It would be easier to get lost in in that swirl of images reflecting back at him in the glass, to let himself float away through that hole in the wall and just be done. 

He doesn't want to let the pressure of Scott’s hand anchor him, but it does. He’s tired and he’s scared, but if Scott is still pushing forward then so is Stiles. They stumbled their way into the woods together all those months ago and they would stumble their way out side by side. 

“You need to be checked out by a doctor,” Allison whispers.

“I’m fine,” Lydia insists. Her voice pulls Stiles through the haze of his mind, the way nothing else can. 

He shifts backwards, tripping on some debris and falling against Scott’s waiting shoulder. Blinking away tears he looks around the classroom critically, taking in Allison and Isaac’s worried glances before settling on Lydia and locking eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asks. His voice betrays him shakily and she nods. “Are you- did she…” Unable to finish his sentence, Stiles swallows thickly and moves towards her.

“I’m okay,” she says. 

Shaking his head he keeps walking until he’s close enough to reach out and touch her. “Your neck,” he breathes, ghosting his fingertips along the harsh red lines. It makes his blood run hot when he thinks of someone hurting her. His fingers trace the marks and he wills them to erase any pain, because she should never hurt. 

“She, she said I was a wailing woman, a banshee. I don’t- I…” 

“A banshee, she said that?” 

“Yes!” 

“That actually, that makes sense. Sort of,” he muses.

“How the hell does that make any freaking sense?” she snaps. 

“Yeah I’m lost,” Isaac grimaces.

“Me too,” Scott agrees. 

“It- with the bodies and the bite not taking, it fits. I have some folklore on banshees at home. We can go over it later but, right now we need to focus on finding Miss Blake, or whoever she is. Did she say anything else? Anything that might help us?” he rushes. 

“No she, the crazy bitch was gonna kill me or sacrifice me I guess. But- she didn't obviously. Your dad, Stiles he saved me…”

He runs his fingers along her skin one last time before nodding firmly and turning to Scott. “We need to find Derek, tell him he has the worst taste in woman ever, and save my dad.”

“We’ll take Lydia to the hospital,” Allison adds, stepping forward and touching the redhead’s arm gently. 

“No,” Lydia pulls away sharply. “I told you, I’m fine!” 

“Lydia you should see a doctor. We’ll call you guys as soon as we know anything,” Scott says.

“I want to stay with you,” she says, eyes darting to Stiles frantically. 

“I’ll feel a lot better if I know you’re safe,” Stiles says.

“You’ll know I’m safe if I’m with you,” she counters, narrowing her eyes.

“Lydia please…” he sighs, running a hand through his hair tiredly. 

“Look, we’ll go to the doctors and they’ll talk to Derek, we can meet back up after and figure out a plan,” Allison suggests reasonably. 

Crossing her arms and hardening her gaze, Lydia finally relents. “I don’t want to be left out of things again,” she warns.

“You won’t be left out. I promise,” Stiles says, touching her elbow softly. 

She deflates slightly and sways forward. “Stiles,” she cuts herself off with a sharp breath and lunges forward wrapping her arms around his middle. He catches her against him, gently cradles her head and back. “Be safe, okay?” she whispers against him.

“Not to worry. The dynamic duo of Scott and Stiles are on the case,” he jokes quietly. 

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” she mutters, a teasing smile playing at her lips. 

Allison clears her throat hesitantly. “We should get going,” she mentions.

“Us too,” Scott says. 

“We’ll call after we talk to Derek,” Stiles repeats, leaning back to look Lydia in the eyes. She nods slightly and leans up to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“If you do something stupid and get yourself hurt, I’ll kill you,” she threatens, pulling away and brushing an invisible piece of lint from her shirt.

“Be still my heart,” he smiles, slapping a hand against his chest dramatically. 

He watches her walk away, watches until her red hair disappears and the sound of her heals echoes in the hall. It isn't until the clicking stops completely that he realizes he’s still holding a hand over his heart. 

 

****

. . .

“So, you and Stiles…”

“Does your inquiry have a point or do you just like calling out names?” Lydia sighs, resting her head against the car window. 

“It seems like the two of you have gotten close,” Allison mentions, completely missing anything resembling casual. 

Closer is an understatement and it makes Lydia want to roll her eyes. She’s not sure she’s ever let anyone in as much as she has with Stiles.

“We’re friends.” 

“Friends who gaze at each other longingly and share extended, sexually charged hugs?” she teases. Isaac snorts in the background and Lydia barley refrains from smacking him.

Lydia forces herself not to blush when she remembers the hug they shared in the classroom. She forces herself not to think of Stiles a lot these days but she refuses to acknowledge why. If she succumbs to the feelings that have been bubbling just below the surface, she’ll come completely undone. She knows herself, she knows she’s hanging by a thread as it is and she can’t afford to crumble. Denial and avoidance is better, it’s safer.

“Are we really going to do this right now Allison?” She raises her eyebrows challengingly but the brunette simply shrugs. “Our English teacher is a raving lunatic who tried to sacrifice me and kidnapped the town sheriff but you want to start a round of verbal spin the bottle?” 

“Fine, alright. I’ll drop it,” she grumbles. “For now…”

“How generous of you,” Lydia replies snappily. 

The car is silent for all of thirty second before Isaac leans forward with a boyish grin spread across his face. “For what’s worth, I think you two would make a cute couple.”   
Allison blinks at him through the rear-view mirror and Lydia turns to look at him in outright disbelief. “What?” she asks.

“You and Stiles,” he clarifies as though they weren't aware who he was talking about. “With the height difference and your skin tones, you’d really complement- each other… physically.” He finishes weakly, swallowing nervously as Lydia’s glare intensifies. “Never mind,” he adds, sitting back and averting his eyes.

Allison snorts, unable to contain her laughter. “Sorry,” she covers. 

“Unbelievable,” Lydia mutters.


End file.
